David Poon and the Road to Medical School: I'm NOT A PREMED

The quickest, most accurate way to ascertain if a particular science student (in his or her undergrad) is a premed is by asking,

"Are you a premed?"

If the answer is something like, "Well, I considered medicine for awhile but am looking to finish my physiology degree and do research in peripheral nerve stimulation."

... this person is NOT going to apply to medicine.

If the answer is something like, "I am NOT A PREMED."

... this person is a premed.

This blanket, reflex-like, sanctimonious rejection of the slightest possibility is the cardinal sign of a premed. Counter intuitive obviously. But in my opinion, SUPER EFFECTIVE.

As I discussed in my above linked 'Premeds' chapter of the Road to Medical School, it takes quite a bit of courage to label yourself as someone who admits to wanting to be something else. If this label persists, it becomes part of your identity, and should you not become what you want to be (in this case Medical Student) then you're lost part of your identity. This is made all the worse because others (your friends, loved ones) had seen that as part of you too. At best they have to see you in a different light - at worst they pity you for never having fulfilled your dream.

I'm reminded of my premed days the most strongly than I ever have since my med interviews two years ago.

Some of you have been faithfully following the POON blog during my decent into madness. I've been live updating:

http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=46649360827&id=120408269&index=1

To chronicle some of it. I feel a little better when I'm typing out my thoughts.

But the one thing I haven't wrote out, the reason for my apparent breakdown, is not going to make it onto the web. I'll know by tomorrow if I'm going to say anything about it. I'll give you a hint - this happened about last year around my sister's super sweet 16th birthday party.

Why not talk Poon?

Because I'm afraid. Like every good premed (sorry, "NOT A PREMED) I have come to a point where nervously admitting that I have dreams means nervously admitting that they can be broken. In my most personal moments, I can handle it. But, real or not, I cannot handle:

"Oh, I'm so sorry David."

Don't be. Please. My mistakes are my own. It is incredibly difficult to admit inadequacies, but to be pitied for them (conscious or not, misunderstood or not, sincerely or not) is something I cannot do.

I believe we all have that gravitational feeling, the moment once we learn something that we could feel in our hands leave our possibilities. I had to explain once to someone very close to me that this feeling almost never leaves me. It's a dullness in the gut, a persistent void holding me in. It's just getting worse over the next couple hours.

Hope is not the same as dreaming. Hope is essentially something you wish would occur, well outside of your control.

"I hope to win the lottery"

A dream however is something that you believe (keyword believe) is within your control.

"That's my dream house! Someday I'll earn the money to buy it."

Don't dictionary me to death. That's how I interpret those words.

Failures happen regardless of effort. It is ignored by the complacent, but it destroys the dreamers. Much talk is made of persistence, determination (I have built my entire academic career on these principles). But failure is very much a concept made by the dreamer - one doesn't fail unless there are expectations. And who expects more than the dreamer who actually believes?

Last year my sister's birthday was beautiful. I ruined alot of it because of my own deficiencies in the aforementioned, unspoken topic these series of notes are based upon. But she was beautiful, it was beautiful, it had all the future in the world.

She makes a wish and blows out the candles.

Like the rest of us, she doesn't say what she wished for.

- David